


Telephones

by ignis_kun



Series: The Greater Gatsbies: The Rangami Chronicles [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Astrology, Beaches, Books, Coffee, Friends to Lovers, Kind of pre-established relationship? But not?, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Ocean, Pining, Reading, Reminiscing, Sailing, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Stargazing, Tea, They are afraid to put a label on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27187016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignis_kun/pseuds/ignis_kun
Summary: The stars are out tonight.And so are we, my dearest friend.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Togami Byakuya
Series: The Greater Gatsbies: The Rangami Chronicles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984565
Kudos: 9





	Telephones

It’s the dead of night when Togami wakes, greeted only by the emptiness of his own bed. When had he started considering it empty? It was most of the time. Most of this trip he had been sleeping in Amami’s bed, the owner of said bed taking the floor or the couch with a blanket most of the time. 

It’s not empty, he’s in it. Stop thinking about it.

He’s been slowly adjusting to the life at sea, or on the road, or whatever trail Amami took him down next. His legs were less shaky when he walked around the boat, the smell of seawater had become familiar to him, he had become less picky with his tastes, though he still refused to touch anything microwaved. 

Togami hasn’t cut his hair in a while. It’s grown to his shoulders at this point, becoming a shaggy mess rather easily. Sometimes Amami asks if he’d like to try and braid it or if he’d like him to braid it, but he always denies. He doubts he’d ever want something like that, it’s not fitting of him. Amami insists that it’ll keep the hair out of his face, but, truthfully, he thinks that Amami just wants an excuse to comb through his hair. 

Sometimes he ties it back sometimes he keeps it a loose, shaggy, reprehensible mess that falls in his face and covers his eyes some of the time. 

It’s a change. It seems his time with Amami has brought a lot of that. 

Amami has grown his hair out a bit as well, he’s much better about taking care of it then Togami is. Grows slower. He’s noticed him wearing hats more often to cover up the black roots of his hair that have started to grow in. He insists that he doesn’t need to dye it just yet, that they don’t need to be spending on hair dye of all things, or that he doesn’t want to stop in the city too often until there are fewer people looking for them. He’s taken the time to trim pieces of it, however, unlike Togami. 

Amami has offered to cut his hair as well, but Togami isn’t sure if he’d trust him with a pair of scissors near his head. Or to give him a good haircut.

He pulls the covers back, a black comforter and a rather soft dark, velvety blue blanket underneath slowly falling back to the bed covered by a gray mattress cover, tucked in tight around the edges. A pillow has fallen onto the ground during the night, it lays at his socked feet when he moves his legs to get out of bed.

Everything around him except for that which is only a ruler’s length or two from him seems foggy, like the blur of a lens or a smudge on a mirror until he reaches for thin-rimmed glasses, bringing them to his face. Suddenly, the world is seen with such clarity. He stands up, finding his legs a bit numb as he stumbles through room and room again until he reaches the stairs and door.

He eyes the shoes near the door.

Sandals with socks. He feels awful.

Outside, on the beach they had docked Amami’s boat close to, the aforementioned owner of said boat lays. He’s always insisted on visiting the beach when they pass by one, or can dock near one. His love for the beach and the beach’s love for him is something unspoken. The sand and the sun, shining bright on faded green dye and a lightly freckled tan face as he took step after step into the water, rolling up his pants bit by bit as he made his way further into the crystal blue waters. The sun shined everywhere on Amami. The small tattoo on his wrist of some kind of mountainscape, the painted nails, green eyes that drew him closer, the smile. Stupid smile. 

He’s watched Amami stand for at least an hour on one occurrence, just with his ankles in the water, slowly breathing in and out and muttering. If not for the fact he knew him, he’d think Amami some deranged man who thought he could speak to the sea. 

Sometimes he’d sit in the water, just looking out until Togami lost track of time watching him from the boat, shakily sipping on a cup of coffee. They had managed to get something half-way drinkable last month, and they’re nearly at the bottom of the container from how many spoonfuls each of them use to get a drink that doesn’t taste like coffee-flavoured water. 

Now he lays on the sand like some kind of beached whale under the moonlight, one knee up and hands on his chest, simply gazing until his eyes waiver at the sudden footsteps. 

“You’re awake.”

Amami sits up from his spot, leaving both his hands to fall to his lap, one leg still bent with the other laid out straight, barely touching the sand with his bare feet. He doesn’t understand how Amami doesn’t mind the sand sticking to his feet. 

“ _ You’re _ awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Rantaro ushers to the spot beside him, an open invitation.

Togami stays standing and half hovers over Amami. The ground is dirty. Sand always seems to stick to clothing somehow, or to his hair or would stay in places he didn’t know sand could stay. It’s like glitter. (Togami has had his own experiences with glitter which involved an obnoxious underclassman with highlights to plant a glitter bomb in his desk - the glitter was on his clothes and skin for weeks. He’d even find a piece every now and then stuck to the material of his finely tailored suit making him shine like a cheap… fish lure.)

Rantaro nods at Togami’s unspoken denial, head hitting the back of the coat he was laying on previously and staring back up at the sky. 

“You stargaze?” 

Amami half-heartedly tilts his head.

“Sometimes.”   
  
  
“Sailing. Expected so. ”

Rantaro interjects. 

“Well, some sailors _ do _ use stars to navigate. It’s not what I picked it up for at first though, y’know?”

He looks back up at the stars.

“There used to be these…” Amami stops mid-sentence, but after a few moments of consideration, he continues. 

“My family used to go on trips, cruises lot of the time. It’s what I did when I had some time to myself. It passed the time and I started to learn the names of constellations and where they showed up so I’d be able to see them whenever we went on another trip. Like…”   
  
Amami looks around for a bit, then points up to a certain star, his eyes drifting from place to place.

“That’s Orion’s Belt... Yeah.. should be right about there. Then Gemini should be right around… there. Right next to Orion”

He muses for a moment, humming before his hand drops.

“They would be easier to point out if you were on the ground wi-.”

“No.”

A chuckle from Amami.

“Alright then.”

Amami averts his gaze back to the stars, silently staring at the tiny white specks, muttering something to himself every so often, bringing his hand up to trace patterns. Sometimes he’d shake his head, stop his muttering, only to start right back over again. 

Togami stays in place, though, still looking down at him and the movements of his hands and lips rather than the stars he was speaking about or constellations he was tracing out. The earlier comment comes to mind. It would be much simpler if he was sitting.

“If you keep insisting. Give me a moment.”

Rantaro hadn’t even said anything. Before he can, Togami has already started walking back to the docked vessel on the shore, sand crunching beneath his leather shoes. 

Looking back from the deck of the boat, he notices the adventurer staring back up at the sky, still lost looking at the stars. He was like a starstruck doe, as if what he was looking at was some grand work of art. Head a bit up in the cloudless sky while still lying on the ground. Even from here, he can see his enjoyment.

How he’s entertained by something so simple is beyond Togami.

His feet carry him back onto the dock, through the cabin weaving through rooms and doors until he reaches one in particular. That being, the one he came from of course.

  
  
  


When Togami re-emerges from the boat, he’s changed into something else. Black shirt. Khaki pants. Something unbefitting of his usual attire, which surely did not include khaki straight cut pants. In his hand is a blue coat, something that would be a bit small for him but would have no problem covering the ground.

“Is that my..?”   
  
“I don’t want to be finding sand in my clothes.”   
  
“So you wear mine instead?”   
  
  
Togami is, in fact, wearing Rantaro’s clothing. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. The ground is still dirty, but it’s not his own clothes. It’s Amami’s jacket, Amami’s weird turtleneck shirt, Amami’s ugly khaki pants. It’s his things that are making a barrier between him and the ground. 

Amami’s jacket is laid on the sandy beach, and Togami, hesitantly, takes a seat on the coat and lets himself slowly lean back, head hitting the smooth fabric of the article laid as a barrier. 

  
Amami resumes looking at the stars, eyes narrowing on a certain point.

“Togami, you’re a Taurus, yeah? May 5th?”

“I am.”

Togami has never cared much for astrology. 

“Right there. Right above Orion, not to the side like Gemini.”  He points to the offending set of stars,  “Taurus.”   
  
Togami strains his eyes trying to look for the string of stars moving left and right in an attempt to follow where Amami had pointed.    
  


“Here, a bit to the left,” he takes Togami’s hand, bringing it up and clasping his fingers so only his index finger remains pointed, and guides it towards a particular star.

“That’s the start of one of the horns I think.”

Togami keeps his hand up after it’s released for a few moments, staring at the star that his finger lays on before dropping it to his side, staring aimlessly at the sky. 

He doesn’t understand how Amami could see a bull with this set of stars, or even a set of horns. It all looked the same to him. Just white little dots in the sky that some people decided to trace lines in between and name and assign to different people. He just doesn’t understand why. It frustrates him in a way. 

Just specks. 

Amami shifts from beside him after a few minutes of wordless conversation.  


His eyes meet Togami’s, uttering a string of words in a language that sounds like Sweedish or some other Nordic language that the ex-heir can’t understand, only catching two words: <<als sterrenlicht>>. Met by confusion, Rantaro shakes his head, stating it was nothing important and then back at the stars, the heavy silence between them taking it’s hold and stealing the words from both their lips.

The soft beating of the current against the small grains of the sand wafts through the air, the fresh smell of water along with the cool breeze brought in by the nighttime. In the distance, the sound of crickets can be heard.

Their silences were a common occurrence. They could stay silent for minutes on end, sometimes even hours. Whether they were outside when neither of them could sleep and they’d both gaze at the ocean, eyes flitting to one another every so often only for them to look straight back at the water, or on stormy nights, stuck below deck in a rocking ship where Togami would have to steady himself with deep breaths and hide it behind an indifferent expression and the idle flipping of book pages. 

Rantaro didn’t have much at all, just a few classics and light novels. He had found some manga stashed away in a box under the other books he had found as well, but such things never interested him. He didn’t think that kind of thing would be something Amami partook in either.

The silences were nearly always broken by Amami.

_“You’ve read that one before.” He remembers Amami pointing that out, strewn across the couch with a cup of hot tea, the tag of the teabag still hanging from it while he folded it near unconsciously with finely manicured hands. He always left the bag in, no matter how strong the tea got. Never adding anything. No sugar, no cream, no milk. Just the bag and the folded tag that would eventually be worn down to paper pulp._

_ It’s true. Togami had read the same pages of Amami’s old, worn-out copy of Half-Blood Blues several times, pages yellowed and corners softened by the flipping of pages and ill-care. He wouldn’t be surprised to find ink smudged in any of these pages.  _

_ Togami had taken up an armchair that rested below deck, bitten nails. Bad habit he had gotten back into, or he’d cut his nails so short that he’d be biting on skin if he tried to. He flips the page, only the small sound filling the room for a moment. _

_ “You don’t have much.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Guess I’ll have to buy more then, huh?” _

Togami has focused himself on the stars, tracing the same square patterns over and over again. He doesn’t have the same enjoyment of it as Rantaro clearly does, but he stays in place, staring at the stars that reflect off of Amami’s green eyes like flecks of fire. 

There’s a moment where Rantaro turns over in his spot, jacket shuffling over the cold sand and he takes a strand of Togami’s hair, combing through the long locks a bit. Togami doesn’t swat him away or show hesitance but closes his eyes for a moment. 

He doesn’t think he’s felt more relaxed on this trip than he does right now. 

“It’s getting late out,” The strand of blonde hair falls from his hand, loosely dropping like sands in a time glass,  “We should head in.”

Amami, without hesitation, takes away that bit of relaxation as Togami’s eyes flit open. He gets up, picking up the coat that had been laying on the ground and lightly dusting it off in the direction opposite of Togami. 

“Need help up?”   
  
“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t take the hand given to him.

Togami stands up, hands against his knees as he lifts himself off the ground, stumbling a bit once he gets up. The jacket is quickly picked up. 

There’s sand on the coat. He shakes it, sending a bit of a cloud of dust into the air. There’s sand on him now. Wonderful. 

The pair of them make their way across the sandy beach, up to white steps of the ship with the fresh mist of the sea coating them. Togami nearly slips, only for Amami to catch him, fear painted on his face as if he had just seen his life flash before his eyes. In silence, they continue up the railing. 

They stare at each other for a moment as they make their way past the exposed dock stopping in their tracks. Amami, with the caution and hesitance he somewhat held around these things, brings a hand to Togami’s face, allowing it to linger. His thumb brushes up against his chin. 

Togami huffs, taking hold of his arm. 

“Waiting for Christmas, Amami? We’re far past that point.”   
Funny.   
  


Amami places his other hand on Togami’s waist, bringing his own lips to the others, and Togami closes his eyes, letting himself fall into it while he leans back on the railing of the ship, his other hand touching the top bar for support. A warm hand covers it, intertwining their fingers together with a tight grip. 

The hand on his, warm, the wind cold and the aching in his chest and lungs. 

They part, and the kiss seems far too brief as he finds his head wedged between the crook of Amami’s neck, breathing in and out, the taste of Amami’s lips still on his own and his head full of the cloudless sky and stars that he had once been lead to by the same hands to point to. 

Is this one Taurus? 

Breathless, Togami coaxes Amami closer with the hand that’s lingered to his back for another kiss. 

* * *

In the morning, it’s like nothing has happened. In the morning, they’re waiting for Christmas, hoping that a year will pass quicker than they’d expect. Or perhaps they’re pretending Christmas doesn’t exist, that it’s simply a time of year when people put up decorations and put on happy faces for pictures with Santa only for their expressions to waver afterwards and to be ushered out for the next people to come in. Santa wasn’t real, neither was the day. Just a capitalistic scheme to get people to buy gifts for each other. 

Well, Amami would do that regardless. The black scarf that lays on the ground, the t-shirts he had bought in an attempt to make Togami appear more.. middle class and stand out less that he refused to wear, the pastries that he insisted Togami would enjoy if he just tried them, gave them a chance. 

There were no kisses the night before, no shared glances from heads laying on pillows, no tangled legs or breath on his neck from a man swaddled in his arms. No sweet nothings or sweethearts passing from lips. 

They wake up just the same, going through their same morning routines. Rantaro always wakes up first, he’s always outside and doing his usual checks before anyone could say ocean. Sometimes after his checks, he stands in the ocean. Sometimes for a minute, other times for an hour, just watching the ebbing of the waves and the current.

And he thinks, and sometimes, unbeknownst to him, mutters. About whatever’s on his mind. About the weather. About the water. About the beach. About coats laid on the sand. About sweet nothings and sweethearts. 

Rantaro makes his tea as usual. Sometimes it’s coffee, sometimes it’s tea. He makes it with no sugar, no milk, no cream, just the teabag and the boiling water, the heat of the water seeping through the ceramic.

He fiddles with the tag a bit, folding it over and over again with his one hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Rich kids today don’t know how to express feelings. All they do is stare, pine, and then say “We’re far past that point” and then the cycle starts again.


End file.
